


Too many hands

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Baking, Cookies, F/F, Fluff, Geminids Exchange, Kissing, Long Live Feedback Comment Project
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21798799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: May comes back from a mission to find Daisy trying to bake cookies. She helps.
Relationships: Melinda May/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 50





	Too many hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [26stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/gifts).



> This was written for the Geminids Gift Exchange in Tumblr. 
> 
> This tried to be in the same universe as _[Take this sinking boat and point it home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13239768)_ , but honestly, you need to know nothing from that to enjoy this.
> 
> The title comes from a saying in spanish that goes "Muchas manos en un plato hacen mucho garabato" ("Too many hands in one plate make too many messes"... except that it also rhymes), which is the equivalent of the "Too many cooks spoil the broth" May uses here.

****

**Moodboard by the great[@loved-the-stars-too-fondly](https://loved-the-stars-too-fondly.tumblr.com/)**

* * *

After Lincoln, Daisy didn’t think she could have something like this. 

It‘s not that she had bought on the old lie of having only one big, good love _till death do us part_ , and that everything that came after would just be a cheap knockoff, only the shadow of what love actually is. It was more that she had suffered too much, and she didn’t think her body was physically capable of going through a repeat of that ordeal. How could such a broken heart love again?

The answer is, of course, by loving.

She didn’t think she could have something like this, because this is so much more than what she imagined it could be.

Domestic life with May was a joy on itself while they were just friends- _friends_ was such a weird word to describe their relationship, though: too much and not nearly enough at the same time-, and now Daisy has found that entire universes of new possibilities have been opened to them.

And those universes include being elbow deep in uncooperative cookie dough.

May has been called for an urgent mission half a week ago, and Daisy- recovering both energy and secrecy after a face down with a big group of Watchdogs- is under a strict recommendation of laying low for a while. It wasn’t an order because May is not her superior office anymore, but though she doesn’t always follow May’s advice to the T, Daisy can accept the fact that May is more experienced and has survived in this business for longer than Daisy can aspire to do.

Problem is, she is not used to being idle for long periods of time, or any time at all. There is only so much browsing the net and catching up on reality TV that a superheroine used to exerting herself to the very edges of her endurance and then some can do before developing a level of boredom outside the reaches of what is even imaginable.

Cooking has never been in her skillset: before S.H.I.E.L.D., she never had the time nor the right ingredients or tools to devote herself to cooking something nice and not just junk. While in S.H.I.E.L.D., she picked up things here and there from her teammates, but mostly she was very very grateful for being fed by Coulson’s simple but hearty meals and Fitz’s baked goods. Now, she can appreciate the way May’s hand is firm with the measurements and her nose is precise with spices- and she appreciates the results, too; but, mostly, they are at a stage in their relationship where Daisy would choose ordering and making out on the couch while they wait for the food to arrive to cooking any day of the week. 

But when boredom meets the hand-written bundle of May’s recipes, shenanigans ensue. And those shenanigans might or might not end up with May finding her with sticky-yellow fingers with a pout deep enough to be brandished as a weapon.

“I thought you said you’d stay out of trouble.”

May leans on the doorframe of the kitchen and watches her for a second. The kitchen is an utter mess, and they will have to deal with that rather sooner than later, but Daisy’s hands are sticky with big blobs of dough between her fingers- _dough_ might be a generous term, considering that it’s not homogenous at all-, and her cheeks are dark like a child that has been caught with their hand on the cookie jar. Pun intended.

“I tried to make your signature cookies, but apparently they are _your_ cookies for a reason because I can not get this to become a stretchy dough.” Daisy makes a hand gesture that throws a bit of sticky mix flying to the handle of one of the cabinet doors; May tries her hardest to not wince.

May peruses the counter and then pinches a tiny bit of mix to take to her lips.

“Where are the egg yolks?”

Daisy winces.

“You know I can never remember which part is the yolk, and I thought better safe than sorry... and put the full eggs in.”

May nods. “That’s too much binding for this amount of flour. That’s why the dough is sticking to your hands so much.”

“... sorry.”

Daisy looks crestfallen, but May knows her better than to pretend that words of reassurance are the best way to cheer her up. Instead, she washes her hands and looks for the flour while she gestures for Daisy to come closer. 

“Put your hands back in the bowl.”

Daisy frowns but follows the command, and May takes a deep breath to keep her focus while Daisy looks so adorable. Who would have said that after all they have been through it could still be this hard to spend three days apart. Even before Daisy, she remembered still starkly clear what was it like to be in love. She is not that young anymore, but that doesn’t mean that her feelings are less intense or less meaningful; it means, if anything, that she has a better grasp on her reactions and a more nuanced understanding of what works best for her.

And what works best for her now is pouring dry flour on Daisy’s hands, and using her own to help Daisy mix the yellow sticky mess into a homogenous, elastic dough. Too many cooks might spoil the broth, but it’s also true that many hands make light work. Daisy is very focused on the task, and May takes pleasure in the opportunity to contemplate her calmly, her features lovely in the warm light of the kitchen, their fingers brushing occasionally inside the mix. When they achieve the right consistency, May cleans her hands as well as she can and moves to the sink to run water on the rest. 

“Don’t try to cut them, bake them in lumps. They will taste good nonetheless,” she indicates to Daisy, who is still looking at the bowl like it has affronted her. 

“But these aren’t _your_ cookies.”

May studies her from the corner of her eyes. “No. Because these are our cookies.”

It wasn’t trying to be a line, but she can’t say she is surprised when Daisy walks the distance between them in two long strides and takes May’s face in between her hands, her own face open and tender.

“Shut up, you sap.”

A low rumble resonates in her ribcage, and she’s not sure if it’s Daisy’s doing or the anticipation of her own heartbeat. May tilts her face to the side, coquettish and hungry. “You shut me up.”

There are very few things sexier than seeing your own desire reflected in the eyes of a lover, May knows, but seeing Daisy like this still punches the air out of her lungs. Thinking you know someone inside and out and then realizing they hold inside a full world of undiscovered possibilities is exhilarating.

Or that might just be Daisy sucking kisses at her jugular. 

“Mission went okay?” 

May nods and Daisy continues the trail of wet kisses down to her collarbone. The question is just a footnote, something on the side of what really matters that is _this,_ them, but May appreciates the gesture nonetheless. By the time Daisy is pushing apart impatiently the neck of her tank top, May pushes _her_ gently apart. 

“You didn’t wash your hands,” she points out, and Daisy looks down guiltily at her still sticky hands. May waits for her to look back up to start taking off her smeared t-shirt. “I have no choice.”

Daisy’s eyes darken immediately and that is what power feels like, right there. 

“That’s me. Leaving no choices.” 

She makes grabby hands at her, but May looks pointedly to the sink, and Daisy takes the hint. Washing clothes is one thing, but sex is messy and sticky on its own right: no need to amp it up with over-egged cookie dough. She wants her skin clean of the mission and bathed in the sensation of Daisy’s touches, not in pastry residues. 

Daisy comes back with her hands extended upfront, an offering of wetness and cleanliness. May brings them to her lips and kisses first one palm and then the other, right in the middle. Daisy sucks in a shaky breath while May nibbles at the juncture between her thumb and index finger playfully.

“Did we turn on the oven already or is it just hot in here?”

May looks up at her, disapproving eyebrows but smiling lips.

“Dough will get runny if we don’t bake it,” she warns, and that is some cheek, to play the concerned persona while she is standing in her kitchen on her bra with her girlfriend looking at her with hooded eyes. But Daisy worked hard on the cookies despite the measly result, and May knows that decisions made with a hot head can be quickly regretted right after. Daisy has had enough of that in her life already; she never wants to be a source of that herself.

Daisy reclaims her hand and places two still moist fingers against May’s lower back; the contact sends a pleasing tingle down her sternum and when Daisy takes a step closer, filling completely her personal space, May can only look at her with undisclosed want. 

“We will do it again, then,” she says, and her voice is dark. May places her own hand on Daisy’s hip just to have something to hold onto. “Things turn out better when we do them together anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
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